please tell me if youu like this! i wrote it instead of studying for SATs, so you'd better review. i didn't get any sleep, and i'm all cranky. wonder what caim would be like in the mornings. lol. or even ANGELUS! lol lol lol. heh heh...i wrote the poemy bits myself! there is much OOCness in this. so much it's revolting. leave a review and tell me how bad it is!
He threw himself into the hoards of Empire soldiers, uncaring that he was outnumbered by thousands. The battle lust burned, and he could do nought but yield. Deep inside his soul cried at the blood-frenzy, but smothered by hate and loneliness it was ignored, trapped in a cage of his own making. And another part of him prayed that it would be this battle that ended it, this battle that stopped the endless hell he was forced to live through every moment of his life, in both this world and the realm of dreams.
Let me fight, let me die.
Another wound marked his battle-scarred body, another life taken in return. Each scar represented a soul's shattered dreams, their lives, their hopes. He was the Reaper's angel, here to collect the debts owed. Blood spattered on his face and drenched his clothes; he wasn't sure who's. Didn't matter. The beast within was alive, burning, raging, growing stronger with each and every soul that fell to his blade. His vision turned red, and he roared with a furious joy, the power only killing can bring flooding his body. And there was no pain…
Let me break, let me cry.
The heavy cloak spun around him, giving him cover as he rushed even deeper into the enemy ranks, eyes flashing demonically in the dying red light. Another soldier tried to stop him, hacking at his chest. Throwing back his head, he laughed manically before bringing his sword round in a powerful stroke that killed anyone within reach and sent any survivors flying. His body should have fallen long before, but the beast would not let him rest, would not let him fall.
Let me run, let me fly.
One by one, they fell to the demon with the macabre smile. And with each wound they inflicted on it, that grin grew even wider. So many deaths…he threw himself at the demon, screaming madly. He would avenge his brothers. But there was something in its eyes that made him pause – a fatal and final mistake. As he died, those eyes stared at him, piercing his soul. Lifeless and empty, there was still a conscience, begging for help, begging for forgiveness. It lasted but a few seconds – the beast would not lose to something so weak as guilt.
Let me live, let me try
Over and over again, the ground watered with crimson rivers. And with each death, the wildfire burned brighter. Corpses littered the ground, like rag dolls before the great sword so skilfully wielded. A man slipped in his friend's entrails, crashing to the ground. Terrified, he raised his arms defensively before him, shouting for mercy. But the cries could not pierce the beast's roars, and the man was quickly slain. Again that shadow of sadness…did it actually feel sorry for the thousands it slaughtered? Or was it merely a lie, clinging to a distant memory?
Let me see truth from lie
The child inside wanted to run away. It was frightened by the relentless efforts of the beast, knew it was too late. The demon yelled again as the sun rose; red as the landscape around it. It would fight until it died from its wounds or exhaustion – the beast would accept nothing less. And the child shed tears, knowing there was no way to flee.
Let me end it, let me run.
Why wasn't that thing dead yet! The captain launched wave after wave of soldiers, and faster and faster they fell to the huge sword it wielded in one hand with such ease. What was it, that it could shrug off any blow, no matter how powerful, how crippling, how severe. Was it even alive?
Let me fall, let me burn.
A soldier stabbed it, inflicting a wound that would cripple most men. Demons, however, were far more resilient. Numb, it could feel nothing. Not even the heat of the fire spirits as it called them into existence, reducing the newest attackers to piles of ash. It did not use the fire magic often – the beast preferred the personal kills, preferred to see the pain and shock in its victim's eyes as their life slowly slipped away. If it could, the demon aimed for spots that would kill slowly, so its prey could live their final moments in unbearable agony as their friends and brothers were cut down before their very eyes.
Let me feel, let me yearn.
Yet with each kill, the demon came closer to the knowledge of what lied beyond death. In those few brief moments before the soldiers attacked yet again, it would watch with a childlike fascination as the life slowly faded from the man's eyes. Such beauty…and such a pretty colour to go with it. The demon's body was covered in blood, the thick substance plastering its dark brown hair to its forehead and making its hold on the sword slippery, causing it to slide precariously on the drenched earth.
Let me kill, let me learn
Once upon a time, when it had been young, it had wanted only to create. The child retreated to those memories, remembering the beautiful birds it had spent months painstakingly carving, shaving away tiny fragments until it was so detailed and lovingly made that it seemed as if it would come to life at any moment. The child longed for those days, the days of making instead of destroying. Of feeling for others, and not just itself.
Let me make, feel concern.
But at the same time the child knew that it was not the beast alone that did this. It was not only the beast's hunger for death that drove it. There was a special joy in taking someone's life. That moment of being truly alive, knowing one tiny mistake could end it all forever. The demon found it amusing how much taking another's life made it feel alive. Even if the beast left and were never to return, it probably wouldn't stop fighting. There was far too much joy to be found in living in a world of split-second timing.
Let me stay here with the fun.
There were none left. The realisation hit it harder than any blow, and it froze, waiting. The sword clattered to the ground as the legs gave way, and it collapsed. With no more to kill, the beast retreated and took with it the invincibility that had possessed the demon. It knew it had exhausted the body far beyond its limits. It happened every time, only now it seemed to be getting even worse. One day, the body would not rise again.
Let me…exist.
"Caim! For gods' sake Caim, get up!" The dragon tore at the trees that hid her pact partner, screaming in frustration as they blocked her. "CAIM, GET THAT SKINNY REAR OVER HERE NOW!" The body lay motionless, and she threw herself at the forest wall, her roars shaking the earth.
Finally she managed to get close enough to pick him up in her talons, holding the limp form delicately between razor claws. Her mind shouted across the borders of their minds, trying to bring him back from Death's door. The Reaper would claim neither her partner nor her.
She landed carefully, keeping watch over him, worry tearing at her heart. Why wouldn't he get up? Had he really lost all will to go on? Angry, she snarled at his unconscious body. How dare you, you idiot! You bloody idiot!
But the harsh words were a mask of the fear she felt for him, and never lasted long. She fell down beside him, strength slipping from her weak grasp. Caim…please don't…leave me…
He awoke, and immediately her mask returned. It's about time. What were you thinking! Or were you even thinking at all?
The human turned his back to her. I did what I always do.
Well don't! You almost killed us!
Caim spun round, distress in his ocean eyes. Do not ask me something I cannot do! She paused. His voice…
He glared at her. What do you expect me to say? 'I'm sorry'? 'I'll never do it again'? You know as well as I that that is impossible. He rolled over. I'm tired. Leave me alone.
You're pathetic.
She saw his shoulders sag. Yes. I am pathetic. Now leave me alone to die.
Her eyes burned, and she growled at him, her fanged maw inches from his neck. You selfish bastard! How dare you drag me down with you!
Caim didn't shout back as she had thought he would, as she had hoped; it was far better for him to be angry than self-pitying. Could he truly have given up? She turned him over and nudged him gently with her muzzle, and he closed his eyes. I am the last of a family that lived for centuries. I have nothing left – my sister is dead and my friend has gone insane. The people I travel with hate me for what I am, and the dragon I am eternally bound to loathes me. And on top of that there's something inside me that wants to kill everyone I see. I would do anything to end this, and I don't care if it means giving up and running away. I just want it to stop.
"Then fight it with me," she whispered softly. "Don't give up, don't lose to it. Let me help you."
He hugged her neck tightly, and she closed her wings round him. The sun shone through the membrane of her wings, bathing him in a soft crimson glow. And for once, the colour did not remind him of blood.
I hated you, a long time ago. Before, when I first saw you fettered in the bailey, I hated you.
She chuckled, remembering the time they had first met. I thought you were the most repulsive being I had ever seen. I was amazed when you started talking – I didn't think you were sentient enough to know any words.
That could be taken offensively.
It could, couldn't it…which may explain why I said it.
He 'hmphed' and lay down, determined to sleep no matter how sunny it was.
You're actually going to try and sleep, my little insomniac?
Yes. Good night.
Don't you mean morning?
He drifted off, exhaustion taking hold once more. I hate you, he murmured fondly.
She smiled a dragon smile and curled up beside him. It would certainly make things easier, wouldn't it.
To fight, to die
To break, to cry
To run, to fly
To live, try
To see truth from lie
To fall, to burn
To feel, to yearn
To kill, to learn
To make, feel concern
To simply…exist
What must I do?